


All Fall Down

by elissanerdwriter



Series: tumblr ship weeks [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Courferre Week, M/M, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 13:02:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4523118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elissanerdwriter/pseuds/elissanerdwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Courf sighed heavily. “You got through a twelve-hour shift after an all-nighter and lost it in the parking lot afterwards? Even when you break down, you’re still superhuman.”<br/>“I’m not superhu-” he started, and Courf raised an eyebrow. “Well, it’s not like Joly is falling apart, he has the same work schedule as I do-”<br/>“He’s taking half the classes you are- all of us are, really. Enjolras is the only one with a workload anywhere near yours, and he never even attempts to go on dates or anything, he just writes speeches for rallies in his free time.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Fall Down

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic for the tumblr Courferre week, brought to my attention by the lovely chibi1723 (eirenical) and encouraged by pilferingapples. Thank you :) and enjoy!

Combeferre’s quiet sigh as he unlocked his car, gloved fingers slipping as he tried to pull the key back out, sent a puff of breath spiraling before his glasses. They fogged up immediately, and he groaned audibly. Opening the door, he slid into the seat, put the key in the ignition, and cranked the heat up before removing them. He lifted his jacket to wipe them on his sweater, having forgotten his cloth at his apartment. Along with his wallet.   
He looked up at his windshield, then searched around his seat, twisting to check the backseat. When he turned and didn’t even bother to make a sound, dropping his head back against the headrest. He added his ice scraper to the mental list of forgotten items.  
Apparently he wasn’t going to get Courf’s birthday present today.  
He only had a week left- it was November 12, and the party was on the 18th, but he had found a pajama set patterned with bowties he knew Courf would love, as well as a transparent coffee mug with graduated markings reading “I’m not even conscious yet,” “don’t even try,” “can’t you just wait?” and finally “too late, I’m too glamorous for you.” He had planned to stop by the novelty shop selling the items after his shift, but given his absent wallet (and seeing as it was growing dark and he now had to scrape off all the snow accumulating on his car with his hands) there was no way he could drive home, to the store and back before Courf showed up for their movie night- he had finally convinced him to watch Casablanca. Of course, he could also feel exhaustion seeping into his bones along with the cold, making them feel brittle and stiff. He had been up until one in the morning trying to finish a paper, then gone to his 12-hour shift at seven. And then realized his laptop had failed to save the entire last page of the essay, which meant he had to rewrite it in the break room after he had finished his rounds. Today had not been the best of times.  
He sat with his head tipped back for another few minutes, then finally forced himself up, getting back out of the car. His jacket flapped around him in the wind as he swept his hands forcefully across the windows, working his way around the car. Despite his gloves, his fingers were numb by the time he got to the passenger side. When he reached the driver’s again, he noticed a pile of snow just above the windshield, ready to slide down and block his view again. Leaning heavily on the hood, he stretched, trying to knock it down. Despite his stature, he couldn’t get enough of a hold on it to pull it down. He shuffled his feet, trying to get as close to it as he could, arm still reaching out in front of him.  
But suddenly, his right foot was not under him, but off to the left- and that terrifying rushing filled him as he fell, hitting the hood and then landing hard on the snowy pavement, twisted awkwardly. His elbow, shins, knees and head all screamed for attention, but he did his best to ignore them, pushing to his feet and brushing off the white powder on his sleeves.  
From across the parking lot, he heard Joly call, “Oh my God, Ferre, are you okay?” He fought back his frustration and nodded, forcing a smile.  
“Yes, I’m fine! Don’t worry!”  
He waited for Joly to drive off, then got back in his car, wincing at his bruises, and dropped his head on the steering wheel, one hand rubbing his knee. The loudest groan yet burst from him, and his face burned with unshed angry tears. God, why couldn’t anything go his way today? The light filtering through the skin of ice remaining on all the windows gave everything a sickly, watery look and he was too cold to check his injuries anyway, so he just started the engine. He’d already have to hurry if he just wanted to make it home in time for the movie.  
As he pulled out of the parking lot, a truck appeared on the other end of the street. He kept an eye on it, thinking it would turn somewhere, but it kept coming straight at him, driving far too fast for the current conditions. His hands tightened on the wheel, stiff knuckles cracking, and his eyes narrowed behind his glasses. The other car kept coming, not slowing at all. What was the driver doing? Couldn’t they see how close the two of them were? He slowed to a crawl, his adrenaline from his fall still pumping and making him irrationally angry at them. He suddenly realized he hadn’t turned his lights on.  
Mind kicking into overdrive, his hand flew to the switch before he imagined what would happen if he flicked them on right in somebody’s face. But they probably couldn’t see him, so what was he going to do?  
The truck was only about twenty meters away, its lights finally catching his own car. He was immediately blinded, and he swore loudly. As if in response, the horn blew out into the night, mirroring his own thoughts’ scolding. He quickly pulled over to the side of the road, allowing it to pass him. The driver glared at him, and he recognized them as one of his patients that day. He dropped his head again, this time going for invisibility. The wash of emotions finally burst free, and he started crying.  
It wasn’t that he was sad, it was just that he was so frustrated and he felt so ridiculous that he couldn’t hold it together. He knew the rest of his friends had much worse problems, and Courf had already fallen apart twice that month. He just wanted to make his birthday, and tonight, special. To make up for how distant he himself had been to his boyfriend, working almost every day in long shifts between his classes. He was so tired…  
He knew he couldn’t drive home like this. Taking deep breaths, he slid his phone out of his pocket- at least he hadn’t left it behind- and scrolled through his contacts. Enjolras had a late-night class. Pontmercy was out-of-town with Cosette and her father. Prouvaire and Bahorel were both sick. Feuilly was working. Joly had just left the hospital after the same shift, and was at least as tired as he was. Bossuet had been up binge-watching a show the previous four nights and fallen asleep that morning- even if he was awake, he probably wasn’t in any shape to be driving either. Grantaire had a show. God only knew what Eponine was doing.  
That left one contact.  
Laughter bubbled up painfully in his chest as he hit call. It only rang twice before there was a click and that bright, dynamic voice he knew so well filled his thoughts, scattering them.  
“Ferre, I know your shift ended like a half hour ago. Where are you? I’m at your apartment and you’re not answering. You were all excited about watching this movie with me (what is it Madagascar I think) you should at least have the courtesy to be here. I even brought popcorn. If you don’t show up in ten minutes I’ll be forced to break in. Where even are you?”  
Combeferre rubbed his face. Trying not to sound too pathetic, he said, “Courf, I need you to come pick me up. And it’s Casablanca, not Madagascar.”  
He could hear the shrug in his boyfriend’s voice. “Same difference. Wait- why do you need me to pick you up?” There was a brief rustling sound. “You can’t be snowed in, there’s not enough down yet and you have four-wheel drive. Did your car break down? Are you intact? Can you get to a safe spot? Where’s Joly?”  
“Joly already left. I’m okay, I just- Please, Courf?”  
It was quiet for a moment. When he spoke again, Courf’s voice was gentler. “Okay. But you owe me, got it? I have one free ride, anywhere in the city.”  
“Okay.”  
“I’ll be there in a minute.”  
Ferre smiled into the steering wheel. “Courfeyrac?”  
“Combeferre?”  
“Don’t you need my location?”  
“Oh. Yeah, I guess my boyfriend-locating superpowers probably don’t work in the snow.” A car door opened and shut.  
Combeferre looked up and realized he could still see the hospital sign, glowing dimly through the white flakes. He let out a breath. “Actually, just drive to the hospital. I’ll meet you there.”

~*~

By the time Courf drove up, Combeferre was standing on the steps to the waiting room, bag slung over one shoulder and crying a little again. He was cold and tired and his feet hurt, and he had just remembered he never sent that paper in. He sniffed tiredly, walking down to stand next to the driver’s side window.  
Courf rolled it down, looking up at him through his curly bangs both lovingly and bemusedly. “Hey, are you okay?”  
Ferre pushed some of his own hair back under his hat. “I left my car in Marius’ driveway, it’s about a block away, so I need to come back and pick it up in the morning. When we get back to the apartment, I need to post my paper, I forgot to this morning. And I need to take a shower and get dinner before we start the movie. Oh, to get dinner I have to get my wallet because I forgot it at home-”  
Courf reached through the window, one bare hand resting on his chest. His heart was roaring. “Slow down, babe. You don’t have to take care of everything now. Come on, get in.”  
He pulled the bag through the window, dropping it on the back seat while Combeferre climbed into the passenger seat. He pulled his seatbelt across his chest and clicked it into place, but before he could bring his hand back over, Courf grabbed it, pulling off his glove. “God, your hands are so cold. Here, give me the other one.” Ferre complied, and they sat in the car for a minute, his hands slowly warming under the careful administrations of Courf’s somehow burning hot fingers. Finally, Courf said, “Come on, let’s go get a drink before we go home.”  
Combeferre frowned. “Wh-what? No, we aren’t going drinking, I still have to-”  
Courfeyrac rolled his eyes. “Not alcohol. Coffee. Or actually, just something hot, because you, sir-” he let go of Ferre’s hand, pointing at him dramatically- “need to sleep.” He turned back to the front and eased his way out of the driveway, still skidding a little on the ice.  
Ferre remembered the coffee mug and the pajamas and felt his throat close up. He was running out of time, he needed to get them now before they were sold out or he forgot and it was the day of the party and he still needed to put his paper up-  
He realized he was rocking back and forth slightly, and Courf was alternating peering out into the snow and shooting him worried glances. He made a concerted attempt to compose himself.  
“So, are you still up for watching the movie?” He was proud of how steady his voice sounded.  
“Um- yeah, but Ferre, are you? Are you really okay? You didn’t answer my question.” Courf’s face was no longer mildly amused, but drawn and worried, and Combeferre felt a pang of guilt for killing that joy. The world needed more of it.  
He snapped his mind back to the present, realizing he had again ignored the question. “I- it’s nothing. I’m just tired. Don’t worry about it.”  
Courf shook his head, eyes still on the road as he turned into a Starbucks. “Well, clearly you’re utterly exhausted, but there’s something else. Please tell me what’s wrong.”  
Ferre took his hat off and ran a hand through his frozen hair,staying silent. They pulled up to the drive-thru and Courf ordered two hot chocolates. The person who handed over the tray eyed them for a moment, and Combeferre resisted the urge to turn his head to the opposite window.   
Courf got back onto the road, now heading for the apartment. They drank in silence for a while, but Ferre’s mind was still on overdrive, trying to find a way to explain what had happened without causing unnecessary worry. Finally, he said, “I pulled an all-nighter trying to finish a paper, the last page didn’t save, I forgot to turn it in, I left my wallet and ice scraper at home and fell in the parking lot trying to get the snow off my car with my hands, and when I tried to drive home I forgot to turn my lights on and almost got in a wreck. Also,” something finally dawned on him, “my license is in my wallet, so I shouldn’t have been driving anyway.”  
Courf sighed heavily. “You got through a twelve-hour shift after an all-nighter and lost it in the parking lot afterwards? Even when you break down, you’re still superhuman.”  
“I’m not superhu-” he started, and Courf raised an eyebrow. “Well, it’s not like Joly is falling apart, he has the same work schedule as I do-”  
“He’s taking half the classes you are- all of us are, really. Enjolras is the only one with a workload anywhere near yours, and he never even attempts to go on dates or anything, he just writes speeches for rallies in his free time.” They snorted together over their friend’s work habits. “I guess it works for him. But Ferre, dude, you really have to slow down a bit. I know you just want to help everyone else,” he said quickly when Combeferre opened his mouth, “and that’s good. If there were more people who had that drive, the world would definitely be a better place. But even dates are just a way of fulfilling other people’s needs for you. Think about yourself for once, before you burn out completely, please.”  
They parked in front of the apartment building, and Courf turned in his seat to look directly at Ferre. “Don’t worry about me, or Joly or Enjolras or any of our friends. We appreciate it a lot, but you’re worrying us too. Why don’t we just go inside and you can sleep? We can watch the movie some other time.”  
Combeferre started to shake his head, but he barely even got halfway through the motion before Courf pulled his hand to his lips in a dramatic kiss and opened his door. “Okay, we can still watch it, I know how much you wanted to. I’ll get your bag. You just go up. But if you’ve forgotten your keys, so help me God, you are the one climbing up the fire escape.”  
He had gotten the bag and dashed under the roof covering the door to the building before Ferre had even taken off his seatbelt, and was now almost bouncing, unable to contain his energy even when he was trying to be calm. Combeferre sighed, again wishing he spent more time with this man. Remembering at the last second to take his gloves, he got out of the car, wincing slightly when the door swung back and tapped his leg. When he trudged up to the door, Courf threw one arm around him and dragged his scarf down to kiss him, stretching up on his tiptoes. “We hadn’t had a proper hello yet.”   
He filled the time as they walked up the flights of stairs with chatter about his day, a rundown of his lunch with Enjolras, a one-sided discussion of his favorite show, fitting it all into just a minute or two. This was what he always did when Ferre was down, gave him something to focus on beside his problems if he wanted or just space to think.  
He stopped talking abruptly outside the apartment door, turning and holding his hand out. Combeferre fumbled in his pockets, dropping the gloves as he dug to find his key. His breath hissed through his teeth as he bent to pick them up. When he looked up, Courf had the key in the door, but was looking at him with narrowed eyes. He straightened and took the door handle, pushing it open. “Look, it’s not that bad, it doesn’t even hurt that much, it’s probably just bruised. Hardly the worst thing that happened today,” he added in an undertone.  
They went into the hallway, shutting the door. Courf let the strap fall off his shoulder and dropped to the floor in front of Ferre, taking the hem of his jeans.  
“What are you doing?” Combeferre said, too tired to smile.  
Courf gave him an offended look. “Checking your bruises, what did you think I’m doing? The pants come off from the other direction, stupid.” He rolled them up slowly, and Ferre tried not to flinch as they pressed against his shins. He heard Courf inhale sharply. “Damn, dude, how did you just walk that off? There’s like, a massive bruise, and a bunch of little cuts- where else did you hit?”  
“P- Um-” he had to fight down a laugh when he realized he had been about to list the bones he had hit. “Kneecaps, both shins, my right elbow, and I may have hit my head. I was kind of out of it at that point.”  
“You don’t know if you actually hit your head or not?” Courf looked horrified.  
“I don’t think I have a concussion or anything, it just hurt when I got up.”  
Courf stood up. “I’m calling Joly.”  
Ferre tried not to get annoyed, but he was too tired to keep standing. “I’m a med student too, you know.” He pushed gently past Courf and sat on the couch, studying his uncovered leg. It did look rather bad, and his brain immediately told him that he should really be feeling more pain than he was, causing him to grunt quietly and roll his pant leg back down.  
Courf leaned over the back of the couch, rubbing his shoulders gently. “Yeah, but you’re the one who’s injured. I’m pretty sure there’s a rule against examining yourself. You have to let me at least put an ice pack on it.”  
He stretched out on the couch, looking up into the mess of dark curls that was Courfeyrac looking down. “I’m not going to argue that you shouldn’t. Since you’re up, can you also get my wallet and put it in my bag so I don’t forget it? And bring me my computer so I can finally send in that damn paper-”  
The freezer opened in the kitchen, and then a bag of ice dropped on Ferre’s stomach. He couldn’t feel it through his jacket, but he put it on his leg and then pulled his jacket off, shivering even though he was still wearing a sweater. He traded the bag between all the aching places for a minute, then twisted to look at the door to his bedroom. “Courf?”  
Courf suddenly appeared, hopping over the back of the couch and settling carefully by his feet. He set a pack of Oreos and a pint of ice cream on Ferre’s legs.  
“Where’s my laptop? I mean I can go get it myself, of course, but-”  
“No. You are taking a night off because you need it.”  
Ferre frowned. “No, I need to turn in that paper, and I have other things I need to do-”  
“Dude, no. We are going to watch a movie and eat ice cream and cookies and I will sit on your legs if you attempt to get up. I don’t want to hurt you, but you’re hurting yourself, Ferre. Give me the remote.” His face was determined, and Combeferre knew he probably would actually sit on him. He rolled his eyes and passed over the remote, moving the ice pack again. Courf produced two spoons and opened the carton, while Ferre grabbed two cookies, realizing he hadn’t eaten since eleven that morning.  
Maybe Courf was right. He couldn’t go much longer with days like these.

~*~

When Combeferre fell asleep about an hour into the movie, Courf paused it, got a few blankets, and wrapped him up as well as he could without waking him. Then he sat down and finished the movie, since he found he actually liked it a lot. When it was over, he found the laptop, published the paper, and hid it under the sink, put his wallet in the bag as requested, and curled up on the floor next to the couch under even more blankets. He had an early class, but he wanted to stay here for the night and make sure Ferre was okay. He knew he was worrying about a dozen things, and it wasn’t hard to guess that his own birthday was one of them. He trusted Ferre with his own life, unconditionally, but with Ferre’s life… He couldn’t risk his boyfriend’s safety, not when he couldn’t remember his wallet with his driver’s license and forgot his lights in the snow. And it somehow made it worse that if he had been in the car, he never would have forgotten either. He was so careful about other people, but he was (quite literally, Courf thought with a small snort) running himself into the ground, and he didn’t even know it. He would hate for anyone to suggest he was irresponsible, and that wasn’t quite the right word anyway- but it was the only one Courf could think of. He just didn’t really think about basic needs like cold or sleep, and though he could usually remember to eat, he could go long periods of time without doing it too. He cared so much for everyone else, Courf figured he could sacrifice one night for him.  
He curled up under the blanket, not shivering at all, and fell asleep, dreaming of bowties and coffee.

**Author's Note:**

> One of my friends gave me medical student reference, so if there is anything that is inaccurate tell me and I will tell her. Thank you for reading!


End file.
